The Shades of the Exiled
by Hikaru Morinaga
Summary: FE11/12. Twelve: That look he gave Jagen reminded him of someone, that look of defiance mixed with determination. For FE100.
1. Exiled

**Shades of the Exiled**__

**-One-  
**_Exiled_

_Farewell to my life. Farewell to my home. I can no longer call myself a prince - I am exiled, the prince of a fallen kingdom. There will come a day when I will return, I will reclaim you._

-x-

"Hurry up, will you? We have to get His Highness out of the castle before Gra invades it!"  
It was a shame that it had come to this. The invasion, the war, the countless of innocents soldiers - gone. There was so much commotion, so many people running around, gathering last minute belongings, brandishing blades and spears, it made his head and heart hurt to think about what was happening.  
"Sire... This way." The soldier gestured to the darkened corridor before them, the tapestries painted with such dark, depressing colours - greys and blacks and dark blues. He felt as if he were heading to his doom, the way the soldiers were talking to him, the way Jeigan and Abel looked at him, their expressions aloof with that same serious edge. They were going out the back way, the secret exit Gra didn't know existed - and for good reasons.

"Prince Marth, are you all right?"  
Marth felt Gordon tug at his arm and pull him in the direction of the door. Too lost in his thoughts, too busy trying to make sense of Gra's betrayal...  
Marth managed to snap out of his daze and smiled softly at Gordon's worry-filled face. "I'm fine, Gordon - I'm just tired."  
_What a liar you are_, his subconscious hissed at him, but the Prince of Altea ignored it.  
Jeigan shoved the door open, sword drawn and at the ready. They were outside the palace now, where their transport to Talis awaited them.

"There's the prince!" one of the enemy soldiers shouted, his spear at the ready. Jeigan's eyes narrowed as he pointed to the ship up ahead.  
"Get Prince Marth aboard as quick as possible!"  
All he heard were battle cries and the sound of metal clashing against metal as Gordon tugged once more on Marth's arm, their destination only feet away... Marth took one fleeting glance to his kingdom before stopping, not yet aboard the ship.

"I have to go back." His voice was firm; he would not be easily swayed. All around him, people were fighting, pitting their sword against another's, dismounting knights from their horses, the cries of the dying and the wounded rang out...  
"Lord Marth! You can't possibly go - General Jeigan said for us to--"  
"This is my kingdom, my country, my _home_." _I have to find Elice... I have to find Mother... I have to..._

He didn't realise he was on his knees, didn't realise that Abel and Gordon were trying to hold him back as the ship pulled out of the habour...  
Those screams were his own. It had finally sunk in.  
His kingdom was gone. He was the prince of nothing now, the prince of a destroyed and burning kingdom.

_Exiled_.

He stared at the retreating ruins with a solemn look in his eyes, his heart torn into pieces.  
_Farewell to my life... Farewell to my home._

-x-_  
_

**Author's Notes:** This is going to end up being a collection of one shots that are all about Marth. I'm doing this for the 365 drabbles challenge Kitten Kisses began fairly recently. I've been meaning to do something like this for awhile now, and this challenge gave me the opportunity to do it.


	2. Promise

**The Shades of the Exiled**

**-Two-  
**_Promise_

_Marth could come up with a list of about ten good reasons why Jeigan would call on him so late. There was the restoration project, his plans to succeed the throne, his wedding... Little did he know that he would have to postpone all of them in order to not be considered a traitor._

-x-

"Sire... There is a request to see you in your office."  
It was odd for Marth to be called upon so late at night, but nonetheless he shrugged back on the clothes he was in the process of taking off.  
"At this late hour? For what reason?" Surely they wouldn't interrupt him for something that could wait until morning.  
"General Jeigan wishes to speak with you on an important matter; if Your Highness will simply come with me..."  
Marth could come up with a list of about ten good reasons why Jeigan would call on him so late - he had plans drawn up for the restoration project, he was slowly but steadily making progress on his succeeding Altea's throne... There was the wedding coming up in a few days' time...

Marth sighed as his nimble fingers fastened his cape about his shoulders, his armour absent as he left it where it lay in the corner, and followed the footsoldier out the door and into the chilly hallway.

-x-

Marth didn't feel there was any need for an escort to his study when it was only around the corner from his bedroom, but the footsoldier insisted upon it, saying there could be assassins lurking around every corner. Marth merely sighed in response as his calloused fingers grasped the doorknob and slowly opened the door it belonged to. Standing there amidst the glow of candles was his advisor Jeigan, retired from fighting after the war that happened only a year ago. There was an envelope in his hand, the seal still intact; the ex-Paladin looked up at the sound of the door creaking open and inclined his head at his prince's entrance.

"You called for me?" Marth closed the door after the soldier had left, his mission fulfilled. The fire was, of course, blazing on the hearth; the wood crackled as the embers, alive, dancing, consumed it hungrily, grew larger and larger, licked the inside of the fireplace. It was much warmer than the cold and depressive hallway he had just been in.  
Jeigan held out the letter with both hands and Marth took it from him, a look of curiosity alight in the Prince of Altea's eyes. He cut the seal and pulled out the single sheet of parchment, an elegantly written message met his eyes as he unfolded it.

_Prince Marth Lowell of Altea,  
A huge rebellion has broken out in one of Akaneia's occupations, specifically the kingdom of Grunia. I am requesting Altea's armies to go there and quell the rebellion before it gets any worse._  
"Grunia?" Marth muttered, looking up from the letter to the large map of Akaneia on the wall in front of him. "They couldn't call on Khadein for this?"  
Jeigan gave Marth a funny look, but Marth dismissed it with a shake of his head and continued reading.  
_You will leave immediately after receiving this letter. I am counting on you to fulfill this request.  
Signed,  
Emperor Hardin_

Marth folded the letter along its creases and placed it back into the envelope without a word. Jeigan caught the discontented look on his liege's face.  
"Your Highness...?  
Marth placed the letter on his desk and opened the door, the cool air mingling with the heat from the room, sending a shiver up his spine.  
"Prepare Altea's army for battle, Jeigan. We're going on an expedition."  
Jeigan bowed as Marth left the room, shutting the door behind him harder than he intended to.

-x-

_What am I going to tell Sheeda?_ His footfalls echoed as he made his way down the last few steps to the gardens. He knew she would be out here at this time of night - she enjoyed the view of the ocean, enjoyed stargazing. He saw her on top of her favourite hill laying down on her back, her eyes scanning the vast sea of stars in the sky.  
"...Sheeda?" His voice was soft, he didn't want to startle her.  
She sat up and turned around; seeing it was only Marth, she smiled softly.  
"What brings you here at this time of night?" she asked, her eyes following him to the place next to her. He sat down next to her, and she rested herself against him, enjoying the warmth he had, the security he gave her. Absentmindedly, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her even closer.

"I have some...news to tell you."  
Marth could tell Sheeda didn't like his tone. "News? About what?"  
Marth sighed and tried to think of what to say. "Well... Hardin sent me a letter today."  
"What was in it?"  
"He's sending me on an expedition to Grunia first thing tomorrow morning."  
He heard her voice waver slightly. "Tomorrow morning? But Marth, our wedding is in three days! You can't leave..." It sounded like she was begging him to stay as her fingers grasped at the front of his shirt. There was a gut-wrenching feeling and all Marth wanted to do was stay here with her, ignore Hardin's order to fight.

"I have no choice but to postpone the wedding."  
His words cut her, they stung; she never thought she would ever have to hear something like this.  
"I'm sorry, Sheeda, and I know nothing I say or do can make this up to you... But if I do not go, Hardin will consider me a traitor, take over Altea, and I'd be executed for treason. Please understand..."  
"I do," she whispered, gazing into his eyes. They were filled with such regret - she didn't want to see them like that. "I understand that your duty to your kingdom comes first."

He kissed her temple and held her tightly to him as the wind ruffled their hair.  
"When I return from Grunia," he began, his lips now pressed against her forehead, "I promise you the first thing I'll do is watch you come down that aisle, take my hand, and swear to be mine forever."  
Sheeda inclined her head to the right and captured Marth's lips in hers, her arms around his neck.  
"I already swore to be yours forever."  
"Promise you'll wait for me?"  
Sheeda gave him a look he had seen before many times. A look of mock anger.  
"I'd wait all eternity if it meant I could one day be with you again."

Marth knew she would.


	3. King

**The Shades of the Exiled**

**-Three-**  
_King_

_They knew he would be the greatest king they had ever known - but it wouldn't be that difficult; Altea had only four previous kings. There wasn't much to compare him to._

-x-

They always thought he would be a great king. His advisors often said it to themselves as proposals and propositions were sent their way, their opinion wanted on one topic or another. Marth was never quite sure why he was praised as the best king Altea had ever known by the people - he listened to his people, created fair and just laws, helped the poor, was lenient with how much they paid in taxes... He even personally oversaw the restoration of Altea.

Weren't all kings like that? Weren't all kings kind to their subjects? After all, one could not demand respect if he treated his subjects unfairly. Not once had his people complained about how the kingdom was run since he had taken it over.  
_What do they know, anyway?_ Marth mused once as he leaned his palm against his cheek. _Altea's only had five kings._


	4. Library

**The Shades of the Exiled**

**-Four-**_**  
**__Library_

_It was his sanctuary, his home within a home. And no one had any excuse to bother him there, and it wasn't all stuffy and small and bare like his office was. It was cozy and warm and Marth liked it that way._

-x-

Marth could always be found in the library early in the mornings. It was more open than his study - he thought the air was much too stuffy, and stayed there as little as possible. More often than not, he could be found in the chair closest to the fireplace with his nose in a book, or at the table furthest from the entrance to the library jotting down notes in his neat, elegant script. He was usually the only one there. Elice would sometimes pop her head in and remind her brother to "please eat something" or remind him to sleep. He would then come back down to reality, put his things away, and go have dinner or go lay down in his bed.

Today, Marth was not by the fire reading a book or signing his name to paperwork. His head was cradled in his arms, his hand still holding the feathered pen, the letter he was writing forgotten underneath his arms. Sometimes, Marth ended up sleeping there. It was like a sanctuary, a home within a home. _His_ home.

And he would sleep there until Elice would come in, sigh exasperatedly, and gently shake him awake until he realised that, no, this wasn't his bedroom and yes, he really ought to go to bed now.

For now though, the sleeping prince was left alone, breathing softly, deeply, at the table by the fire - he wanted a change in scenery - all by himself.


	5. Strings

**The Shades of the Exiled**

**-Five-**  
_Strings_

_Marth wanted to cut the strings that tied him, wanted to make decisions based on **his** thinking, not others._

_-x-_

He felt like a puppet - a puppet one manipulated by tugging their strings. Did he have a choice with anything anymore? One yank and he was in Grunia - not because he wanted to, but because he _had_ to move there, against his better judgment, even - and another pulled him into a war with Akaneia to reclaim Altea. These tugs, these pulls, all the yanking on the delicate threads that held Marth up took him in a direction he did not want to go in. Now he would have to fight again. Now he would have to go this way instead of standing still and trying to comprehend the situation. He felt harried, rushed to act at a minute's notice and with little to no consultation. Marth liked to think things through, but his puppet master - whomever he was - did not like it one bit.

Marth wanted to cut those strings and take the path _he_ thought was right. Perhaps they _would_ go to war - but they wouldn't go charging in, they wouldn't go blind.  
And he would be the one going to war, of his own account.


	6. Lies

**The Shades of the Exiled**

**-Six-**  
_Lies_

_Sometimes the truth hurts less than when you find out it was all just a lie._

_-x-  
_

He was lied to.  
He turned on his heel and left the room, his eyes burning, his hands balled up into fists. He slammed the door to his room shut and banged his fist against the wall until his hand threatened to break.  
_They said Father was okay... They said everything would be okay...._  
But it wasn't. His father was dead and they had lied right to his face.  
_It would have stung less if they had just told me the truth in the first place._


	7. Facade

**Shades of the Exiled**

**-Seven-  
**_Facade_

_He was a prince first and a son and brother second, or at least, that's what he told them. To be a prince first means that one must bury your emotions so your people don't think you vulnerable._

_-x-  
_

_Don't let them see how much you're hurting_.  
He managed to fake the perfect smile as he emerged from the curtain on Castle Altea's balcony and saw all of Altea's people who had been waiting to see their prince cheer in jubilation. Not far behind him stood Sheeda and Jeigan, and off to the side stood Nina, a somber expression gracing her countenance. It was so twisted - Altea was cheerful and celebrant over the fact that they were no longer being oppressed, and they had no idea what the cost of it was. The cost their prince had to pay to see them like this.

Nina and Malledeus had said to wait a while, to let the news about his mother sink in, to send someone in his stead; they told him he needed time to mourn, to grieve and learn to accept his loss, but he had refused them.  
"Altea's people have not seen their prince in two years," he had said as he brushed all of the nonexistent wrinkles from his tunic out. "They deserve a chance to celebrate our victory. I can't just back out now."

His people thought he was celebrating with them and could not see past the mask he wore, the mask of happiness, of victory. But inside, Marth was hurting; his heart said to stop and grieve, to let it all out, but he refused and simply shoved all of his emotions into a bottle he hastily and painfully corked shut. He couldn't speak - one word, one utterance, and the bottle would tip over and crash to the floor, shatter into tiny pieces; his emotions would take hold of him and he would end up breaking down in front of his people. And there was no way he could let that happen.

Jeigan eventually steered Marth back inside, and before anyone could utter a single word, he turned on his heel and walked off down the hall, his cape dancing at his heels from the swift and sudden motion.  
"Sire, where are you going?"  
Marth stopped briefly, contemplating his answer. Then he said, "I wish to be alone for a while," and left it at that, continuing on his way to somewhere he knew he would not be disturbed.

He finished climbing the winding staircase and found himself practically choking on air as he tried to hold back his tears; he rounded one of the many corners to the third floor hallway, his room within his sight... If he could hold out just a little longer... He couldn't let anyone see him like this, _wouldn't_ let anyone see him like this. He was supposed to be the one people sought out for strength and support, and here he was breaking.

There was a lump in his throat he couldn't get rid of, and he felt he was suffocating as he quickly swung the door open and ducked inside. His facade was breaking, crumbling all around him as he slammed the door closed and leaned against it. Emotions from the past two years resurfaced and he found himself sliding down the door, slumped on the floor, on his knees. His cheeks felt wet and he realised he was crying at last - crying for his father, for his sister, for his mother, for Freyr and all of the people who died for his safety. He banged his head against the door on purpose as his emotions washed over him like a tidal wave against the shore.

_Father is gone_. The wound he had bandaged up reopened with renewed pain. He thought he was over it, thought he had grieved enough, but he supposed it really hadn't hit him then - there was too much going on two years ago, too much on his mind.

_Elice is missing_. How much longer would Garnef keep her alive for? Or perhaps it was all a trap and she was really... The thought of losing his beloved sister was almost too much to bear.

_And Mother... Mother is dead._  
There it was. The throbbing ache in his heart he had tried to keep at bay, had threatened to consume him, break him was doing just that. He stared at the ceiling of his room as it all repeated in his head again and again.

_I'm the only one left_.  
He sat there and let it all sink in, motionless as the tears cascaded down his cheeks. There were no choked sobs, no shrieks about how much of an injustice it was, no ship taking him away from his country, his missing mother and sister. He was here at last on firm ground where he thought he would find them and it all just let out from underneath him. There was nothing but silence.  
_There is nothing left from my old life_.


	8. Chess

**Shades of the Exiled**

**-Eight-**

_Chess_

_Marth was never good at chess. What was the point in sacrificing pieces in order to obtain victory?_

_-x-  
_

Marth was never all that good at chess. It gave his father grief because that meant one was doomed to be a horrible military leader, and what good was a king if he could not protect his loyal subjects? The twelve year old prince studied all his books on strategy, but his father figured that was not enough, even after Marth's tutors said he was excelling at all his lessons on war planning and tactics.

All because Marth could not win at chess. Cornelius would decimate all of Marth's pieces each and every time.

"I don't get it," he said once as he paced about the room, Marth watching him all the while with an equally confused look on his face. "I just don't get it."

"Don't get what, Father?"

He stopped his pacing and stared straight into his son's eyes. "How you can be doing so well in class, and yet be destroyed at this game! It should be child's play to you by now."

Marth idly fingered the dark wood of the rook in front of him. "Because you don't understand the point of a war, Father."

"I've fought in enough of them to be able to understand, son – the point is to _win_."

But Marth shook his head. "No, Father. The point of fighting in a war is to conserve your troops for the harder battles later on. What good is it to win, only to find you're the only one left on the battlefield? You can't progress on and you can't go back…"

Once Cornelius understood his son's logic, he smiled. "But Marth, you really… You really can't do that in chess."

"I know," Marth said with a smirk. "I've tried and failed at it."


	9. Welcome Home

**Shades of the Exiled**

**-Nine-**

_Welcome Home_

_She was always there to welcome him home. Always. It felt like an eternity since he had last seen her, and she complained he had been away for too long._

-x-

It was raining by the bucketful out, and Sheeda didn't seem to be too bothered by it, though Jeigan most certainly was. He kept an eye on her from the shelter the awning above gave, and muttered things about how she would catch pneumonia and die if she didn't get inside soon to warm up. But Sheeda was used to standing out in the rain – Talis was known for having so many rain storms during the summer. And she didn't want to wait inside anyway – there was nothing to do and the atmosphere made her claustrophobic at best. But maybe it was the anxiety building up inside her.

She sighed as she rested her chin against her palm as she blinked rain droplets from her eyes. There was too much fog anyway, so it wasn't like she could see even without all the water. She didn't even feel cold, or wet, and Jeigan's continuation of his "you'll catch pneumonia and die and what will Prince Marth say when he hears about this" speech went in through one ear and out the other. Or maybe it was Cain speaking now. Sheeda couldn't tell and she could care less right now.

She heard the faintest sound, like hooves beating against the dirt roads, now probably all muddy or filled with puddles; in the distance were three figures – two on horseback, one on foot – who were probably just as tired and soaked as she was. Emerging from the thick cloud of fog was Abel, Marth's retainer now that Jeigan retired, Gordon, Marth's hunting partner, and Marth himself.

He was the one she was waiting for. She stood, effectively cutting Cain off right as he was about to say, "For the love of Anri, will you get under this awning at least, Princess?" and, just as Marth gracefully dismounted, flung her arms around his neck and jumped into his arms.

Marth was caught by surprise when Sheeda jumped and nearly missed catching her in his arms, but he was lucky his reflexes were still sharp. She hugged him like he had been gone for years and just remembered he had a place to come home to; he held her like he hadn't seen her for, well, ever.

"How long did I keep you waiting?"

Sheeda kissed him once, then twice as he carried her inside, to the warmth of the castle. "Too long."


	10. Left Behind

**Shades of the Exiled**

**-Ten-**

_Left Behind_

_I can't leave her here, there's no way. If Gra killed my father, than I doubt they would hesitate to kill her as well. Why would she want me to escape without her? Does she know what she's doing, putting her life at such risk, all because of me?_

_-x-  
_

"Where is my sister?" Marth demanded of Malledeus when he approached the encampment. "I left her in your care, did I not?" When it came to his sister, Marth took everything seriously, and to see her not there made him jump to all sorts of conclusions caused by such irresponsibility.

Malledeus inclined his head towards his liege. "Aye, sire, she was, but Princess Elice wished to stay behind and have you go on ahead."

There was silence as Marth stared at Malledeus, his face blank as it all sank in.

_Elice is not coming with us_.

"Have me go on ahead…? Without her?"

Malledeus nodded. "Yes, sire. She has opted to stay behind for the sake of the people. She said that, with King Cornelius gone, Queen Leeza unaccounted for, and you fleeing to Talis, it wouldn't be fair to simply leave the people behind to fend for themselves. So she is staying with them to ease their fear."

Marth shook his head, unable to believe his sister would do this to him.

"We can't just leave her." Marth began walking in the direction Malledeus had come from – the direction the castle was in. "She has to come with us. We can't leave her here, whether it is for the people or not! They might… Gra might…" He couldn't bring himself to utter the word that would complete the sentence.

"That is a risk she is willing to take! Your Highness—"

Marth refused to listen to anything further and took off running instead.

"Prince Marth, where are you going?!"

_I won't let you sacrifice your life for me just so I can live_.

He stopped abruptly when he felt two sets of arms grab him.

"Prince Marth, I know this news is hard to bear," said Jeigan, one of the ones holding Marth back, "but you cannot go back now! Look ahead, sire – there is freedom beyond here, beyond that prison up on ahead. We have come too far to return back to the castle now – they will see you and slaughter us all like cattle. Believe in your sister, sire. She would not do this in any normal circumstance – she is doing this for _you_."

Marth had stopped struggling long ago. "For me…?"

"Yes, Your Highness. You are the only one in this world who can wield Falchion now. With you dead, there is no way we can vanquish this darkness. Your future is entwined with the world's now. If you go back now, there will be no future – for any of us. But if you keep moving forward…"

Jeigan let Marth go; Marth looked to the horizon and saw the faint outline of Castle Altea, or what was left of it, in any case.

"…It seems my life is no longer mine to hazard, then."

And as much as it hurt him to do so, he turned around and headed for an abandoned prison not too far from the shore, with Jeigan and the rest of his army behind him.

_Elice… Please be safe._


	11. Worthless

**Shades of the Exiled**

**-Eleven-**

_Worthless_

_They want me to save the world when I can't even save my own kingdom? I'm useless, I'm worthless, I can't do anything. There are people dying for me and I can do nothing but sit here and run away like a coward. They should just call me Marth the Craven Prince instead._

_-x-  
_

The boat rocked back and forth in time with the waves, and Marth felt just a little queasy from it. Rarely had he left Altea, and when he did, it was by horse or by foot. In fact, Marth had never been on a boat before this, not in his recollection, anyway. He sat in the corner of the ship farthest away from the water as possible, with his knees drawn up to his chest.

_I couldn't defend my country_.

He moved his knees away from his body and held his stomach instead, the nausea coming back now. He had 'fed the fishes' twice already, in between the tears for his father, his missing mother, the sister who opted to stay behind so he could leave…

_It's my duty to protect Altea and its people, and I failed. I'm worthless as a prince – worthless._

And now he was expected to save the entire world when he couldn't save his home.


	12. Rain

**Shades of the Exiled**

**-Twelve-**

**_His Father's Son_**

_rain_

_That look he gave Jagen reminded him of someone, that look of defiance mixed with determination._

-x-_  
_

It was raining again—the only difference this time was the gusty wind that blew the rain into their faces and hastened the soaking of their clothes. It was a cold, miserable day with dirt paths turned to mud and numb fingers that could barely hold onto a horse's reins or even a weapon. Marth shivered as a particularly cold gust washed over him. He shivered from instinct only; the cold was merely a graze he barely registered anymore.

"We can't fight today." Marth said it as if stating fact. Jagen's eyes flitted over to his liege.

"It is only a little rain, sire. Our soldiers have fought through worse conditions."

Marth closed the tent flap and sat on a makeshift seat. The rain had managed to come in and wet the creaking, rotting wood—the only wood they could find out here. It groaned under his weight, but Marth ignored.

"Even a little rain can make the roads too muddy for our horses to traverse safely, so we'll all have to travel on foot so the horses aren't weighed down… The conditions are ripe for fog, as well, and we're low on torches—"

"Sire." Jagen looked even older in the torchlight, Marth noticed. "The enemy is still far ahead. If you wish to not go after them until the weather has lessened, then I will pass down the decision to the rest of the army."

Marth stood from the seat, afraid it might give out if he sat there for too long. He leaned on the table top, which wasn't that wide or tall, and let his fingers grip the worn, circular edge.

"No," he said, looking Jagen right in the eye. Jagen gave him an unfamiliar look, kind of like the look his father used to give him when he noticed his swordsmanship was improving.

"Sire?"

"No," Marth repeated, softer this time. "I will go myself and address them. They are my troops to command, after all."

Jagen nodded and Marth limped out into the rain soaked afternoon. He smiled to himself before falling close behind.

_Prince Marth truly is his father's son_. He couldn't help but notice when Marth gave him that look, one that was close to defiance and determination. The same one King Cornelius used to give him when he was a boy in training.

-x-

**Author's Notes:** In going through some things in preparation for my moving to an apartment, I found this chapter. Originally it wasn't written _for_ Shades of the Exiled, but for FE100, but since it's Marth-centric, I figured it could go in my Marth-centric one shot collection. That and this hasn't been updated in two or so years, so.


End file.
